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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24638665">Senses</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_the_Wolf/pseuds/Thunder_the_Wolf'>Thunder_the_Wolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>will update tags when i'm more awake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:46:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24638665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_the_Wolf/pseuds/Thunder_the_Wolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark’s super-senses get him into some awkward situations. Quick thinking usually gets him out of them. Usually. For some reason, he really seems to mess up around Bruce.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Senses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Clark has super senses and this started with a joke about him being able to tell someone had puked on Batman. And being surprisingly delicate about the situation. Also: who doesn't love the good coffee?! I have no bonus chapter, it's just Clark dealing with his senses. Also, what's continuity? There is none.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Wake Up and <strike>Smell</strike> Taste the Coffee</h1><p>“Oh man, someone brought the good coffee. The really good coffee. I just might marry whoever brought that stuff if they let me have a cup.”</p><p>“Aren’t you powered by sunlight?” Batman snorted, amused.</p><p>“Not immediately, no. It’s a bit like keeping a plant.”</p><p>“You wither without regular food and water but you also have the advantage of the sun giving you energy.” He clarified from over by the camera screens. “Fair enough.”</p><p>“How did I figure you would know what I meant immediately?” Clark grumbled.</p><p>“Would you happen to know where, on this enormous flying base, the extremely good coffee that you would marry for is located?”</p><p>Clark knew he looked silly, gaping like a dog with his head angled for the ceiling, but for some reason opening his mouth made the scents easier to pinpoint, if a little stronger.</p><p>“It’s faint, but I can find out. Want a lift?”</p><p>“You are not going to fly to the good coffee.”</p><p>“You underestimate my desperation.”</p><p>“You took that as a question when it wasn’t.”</p><p>“Fine.” Clark groaned. “I can walk like a normal person.”</p><p>Nevermind that he was feeling rather sluggish after two weeks of all-nighters trying to figure out what a strange new supervillain wanted with the newest landmark he was writing about. He felt like a slug crawling away from salt. Just fast enough to stay alive but lose some skin in the process.</p><p>“I’m sure whoever it is, they’ll be more than happy to share.”</p><p>Sure. If he can find it before it’s gone.</p><p> </p><h1>When to Change Clothes (Smell like A Newbie)</h1><p>Clark’s nose had been on fire since he entered the base and now he knew why. Along with all the sweat and tears that came with an unsuccessful mission, something was… off about Batman. It took him an entire debrief to place the rancid smell and guess at where it might have come from. When the meeting was over, he took the Caped Crusader aside.</p><p>“Congrats on the new Robin.” He muttered. “They have a nightmare recently?”</p><p>“I certainly hope not.” Bruce sounded exhausted in a way that Clark had seen mainly when something was wrong with one of the kids. No matter how old they got, Robin or otherwise, Bruce cared fiercely for every child he managed to keep under his roof. (He ached for the kids who rarely, if ever, returned to said roof.)</p><p>Clark narrowed his eyes. If a kid hadn’t thrown up from a nightmare, it could be a stomach bug. Or… wait. This was different. He’d seen this before and when added to the tired shuffling lope Bruce was doing, a few things clicked.</p><p>“Fair enough. I never had any siblings of my own, of course, but I’m sure Alfred and the rest have things in hand while you’re here.”</p><p>“This is… new.” Bruce admitted. “For all of us except Alfred.”</p><p>Practically confirmation.</p><p>“Well, if they ever need help, I know a thing or two. I didn’t have any siblings but babysitting is just about the next best thing.”</p><p>“Thanks, Boy Scout. I’m pretty sure Alfred would love the help.”</p><p>He would not ask just where the fuck Bruce Wayne got a baby from. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. One could hope it was just temporary but it didn’t sound that way. Whatever was going on, Clark knew Alfred, at least, was in Bruce’s corner.</p><p> </p><h1>Crocodile Clock</h1><p>He was basically asleep right now. Or he wished he was. The last place he wanted to be was snooping around the Jenny Turner statue that was erected in honor of the doctors and nurses who’d stopped an attack in its tracks by figuring out how to neutralize an extremely resistant strain of Scarecrow’s fear toxin. Batman’s rogues generally didn’t leave their own territory, and they definitely had no real reason to come to Metropolis. Clark guessed if he had to pick one, it would be that they were running out of subjects. In Scarecrow’s case, Gotham was fresh out of fear. Individually, you could count on a crowd to be scared by whatever the madman with a demented pumpkin head could make them see. But as a whole, Gotham was prepared for such attacks. Metropolis wasn’t. Worse yet, this wasn’t something Superman could punt into the sun or wash away with his powers. Shock, mostly a change in heat or cold, did rather well at snapping some people out of it but there were enough of them affected that the hospitals had been swamped enough to ask their sister city for help.</p><p>So, you could imagine, after such an exhausting event, why Clark was all but dead on his feet.</p><p>“Hello, Bat.” He mumbled tiredly at the quiet footsteps of either the Caped Crusader or one of his birds.</p><p>“Bats is checking out the roof. Apparently the toxin wasn’t enough for Scarecrow. He wanted to give them something to really fear.” Nightwing informed him.</p><p>Fucking fuck this.</p><p>“Was that a curse word I just heard?” The black-and-blue acrobat chortled. “Oh wow, I never thought I’d see the day!”</p><p>“Be quiet,” Clark muttered suddenly. “Something’s wrong, something’s-.</p><p>Beeping. On the other side of the hospital, a straight line to the statue… if it weren’t underground and required going through the hospital to get to it. He told Nightwing what he was hearing. The younger man paled and relayed it to Bruce immediately. They weren’t sure if it was a bomb or not, but there were no chances being taken. Not when there was definitely another plot in the making.</p><p>Clark twitched his ears every so often to make sure the beeping was still there as he gave directions. He knew when Batman and Nightwing found what they were looking for because the beeping got louder. Not faster. Just louder. Just more constant. Just-.</p><p>Beeping. The statue exploded. So did the visitor’s parking lot. There was still beeping. He could only hope that no one was actually in any of the cars. The air was suddenly flooded with gas as people poured out through every entrance available to them, only to collapse screaming when they did so.</p><p>Nightwing’s words rolled around in his head.</p><p>
  <em>He wanted to give them something real to fear. </em>
</p><p>Clark rolled his shoulders back and decided that Scarecrow didn’t set the rules.</p><p>“It’s okay,” He muttered to himself. “Just another late night.”</p><p>The beeping wouldn’t go away anytime soon. He’d just have to deal with it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><h1>First to See the Danger</h1><p>Sight was a constant for Clark. Even when he couldn’t see through something, due to lead or certain types of gas, he could use his sense of direction to navigate through a room. Darkness was never a problem when you had an inherent ability to see in the dark, and it was even less of a problem when you could close your eyes, click your teeth, and get a layout of the room.</p><p>Oh yeah, that had been fun to practice in his teenage years.</p><p>It wasn’t every day that his eyes just did not process what they were seeing. Maybe this was a hallucination.</p><p>“You should have called in sick today.”</p><p>Bruce Wayne the Billionaire was on full display. With a few of his kids in tow, the ones who actually liked the various jobs that came with running a business. And this wasn’t his business.</p><p>No, this was the Daily Planet. Bruce was sitting at his desk. Tim was going through his drawer for candy. Stephanie was looking at a case file that did not even remotely belong to him.</p><p>Clark was definitely seeing things.</p><p>“C’mon, we’re getting lunch.” Bruce ordered in that casual do-it-even-if-it-sounds-wrong way of his. He swaggered out like it was nothing. Tim dumped the remaining chocolates and jolly ranchers on Clark’s desk. Stephanie gave him the file.</p><p>“You’ll need that.” She said. “You’re going to want lunch after you read it.”</p><p>He did indeed want lunch after he read the file. Especially since half the file was redacted and the only reason he could see any of it is uses of x-ray vision in ways that gave him a headache. The thing is, despite Lois’ constant griping about how he fell head-first into trouble, he was an investigative journalist, not an active detective. He didn’t take cases, he chased leads for a story to write about. He could write a fluff piece about the Jenny Turner statue being rebuilt, stronger than ever, with no real research required. He could technically spin this as a story. He could definitely try. Once he explained to his colleagues why Bruce Wayne was treating him like a source.</p><p>Lunch was burgers at one of the better diners that Metropolis had to offer. It was a few blocks away from the Planet but not so far that he couldn’t have justified walking.</p><p>“You owe me eye-drops,” Clark informed Bruce sharply when he sank into the booth the Waynes had procured. “And why make such a spectacle? There’s nothing I can do about this.”</p><p>“I own the Planet, I’m allowed to remind people of that every now and then.” Bruce drawled as if he knew something Clark didn’t. He knew a lot of things that Clark didn’t. Clark had come to terms with that a long time ago. But this was… strange, even for the local eccentric billionaire that <em>wasn’t</em> his enemy.</p><p>“How’d you get your hands on this? It looks pretty classified.”</p><p>“It absolutely is. Which is why the government made a mistake giving such a lucrative contract to Wayne Industries. We don’t take every shitty project that comes our way and the feds’ insistence on this is grinding my company’s gears.”</p><p>“So you want to prove a point?”</p><p>“Among other things. I want this kryptonite project as far away from my grounds as possible.”</p><p>“Even if Metropolis isn’t your grounds.”</p><p>“Well, I do own the Planet.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“I’m going to need that file back. I just figured you should know why I’ll be coming off as a bit too paranoid in the near future.”</p><p>“Much appreciated.”</p><p>And it was, Clark mused. Whatever this Project Cadmus had going on, if kryptonite was involved then Luthor was bound to be. So why award a contract like this to Wayne Industries?</p><p>This would gnaw at him for a few days and the only way he got any sleep was to slip on some weird eyemask that Lois gave him once and close his eyes.</p><p> </p><h1>How Not to Handle a Blackout</h1><p>In his heart of hearts, Clark desperately wanted to curl up in a ball and rock back and forth. That wouldn’t make any of this pain he was in go away. He had no damn clue that kryptonite could cause pain like this! He thought he’d known every color but Cadmus… did. Something.</p><p>They didn’t know his civilian identity, and all he could do was thank God for that. He had been stopping a rampaging rock monster when he’d been doused with some weird purple mist. It sapped his strength like Kryptonite but it also did something else. Every step he took felt like electric currents running through his skin. Everything ached or burned in some way. He couldn’t move, couldn’t touch anything without setting off another current.</p><p>It took everything he had to finish the fight and get the rock monster back to the magically animated grounds it came from. Zatanna was on the case as far as the magic was concerned, and for that he was grateful. The rock monster crumbled into dust not long before Clark himself all but collapsed.</p><p>“Not yet, Boy Scout.” Bruce’s voice slammed into his ears and he felt something lifting him. Someone, he corrected when he detected the heartbeats of around him. Batman wasn’t here, but Zatanna was. So were Nightwing and Tim and Stephanie.</p><p>“I’ll be fine.” Clark ground out, wrenching himself to his feet. If he could just get home, perhaps waiting this out was all there was to it. He just… couldn’t be touched right now.</p><p>He left broken gavel when he took off shakily into the air but at least he didn’t crash into his apartment balcony so much as drag his face through the alley beside it. Changing was a nightmare, but thankfully still a fast one. This apparently wasn’t the same as regular kryptonite. That was good to know but didn’t help him right now.</p><p>He dropped to the floor as soon as he reached his apartment and Lois, the brilliant woman she is, opened the door and dragged him in without a second thought.</p><p>“You’re in a lot of pain.” She murmured quietly. Your sense of touch is heightened, according to what Zatanna could make of it. She and the others aren’t sure it’s magic.”</p><p>It’s been, what, five minutes? They work fast.</p><p>“If you’re up for it, Bruce might come over with a couple of the kids.”</p><p>He was very much not up for it, but if Bruce had told her that, then it was because he expected to have something to share. Or the kids were worried, whichever came first.</p><p>“Sure.” He ground out.</p><p>“Do you think a bath might help?”</p><p>He wasn’t sure but it was worth a shot. Besides, he was worn from the fight. A bath would be nice.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>So Lois helped him stagger to the bathroom and it took Clark a few minutes to realize that something was very off here.</p><p>“Bathroom’s further than I thought.” He panted.</p><p>“This is Wayne Manor.” Lois said. “Bruce was nice enough to keep me updated and he figured I wouldn’t be able to handle this on my own. He was right, not that I wouldn’t try.”</p><p>“How did I get here?”</p><p>“Nightwing gave you directions. I’m sure Mr. Alfred was treated to a very drunk-looking Clark Kent.”</p><p>Well this is fucked. This wasn’t about identities. They’d found those out very early on. It was just… hard being this vulnerable. Bad enough that Lois was here, but the Bats were their own people with their own lives and here he was, taking up space.</p><p>They reached the bathroom. Lois shut the door behind him with a promise that she’d be on the other side. Clark threw off his clothes, civilian, thank goodness, and dipped into the water. He decided that if he had to drown in his sleep, this was as good a place as any to do it. This was a really good bath.</p><p>The pain lessened but did not subside when Clark decided he was done taking up all the heat and water. Lois knocked to make sure he was still alive at two different points during the soak and eventually, he was starting to feel bloated.</p><p>It didn’t happen often and it was definitely a sign that he was more human than Kryptonian right now.</p><p>Ah well. He needed a towel. He needed clothes. He found both just outside the room the tub had been in and Lois gladly handed them to him before helping him out of the bathroom proper and down a hall. He didn’t have the energy to ask where and he could only hope that she wasn’t taking too much of his weight. And that he could sleep soon.</p><p>“It’s purple kryptonite,” Bruce informed him after he’d gotten what felt like twelve hours but was only four. “Ground into that mist. There wasn’t much on it.”</p><p>“It heightens my sense of touch and dulls all the others.” Clark mumbled. “Sorry I crashed your place.”</p><p>“Is it crashing if you’re invited?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Clark yawned, still inexplicably tired despite that being a really good bed.</p><p>“Fair.” Bruce snorted.</p><p>“This is not how I saw my say going.” Clark grumbled. “And to think, just this morning I was saying I could use a deep tissue massage.”</p><p>“I’m not so sure that’s the same thing as any of this.” Bruce snorted.</p><p>“It’s not.” Clark scowled. “I doubt it would work on me anyway.”</p><p>“You never know. You have muscles and bones, I’d assume.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, alien species. This whole thing is great. D’you think if I went back to sleep it’d all go away?”</p><p>“All you can do is try.”</p><p>“Here’s hoping. Gnight, Bruce.”</p><p>“Sleep well, Clark. God knows you could use it.”</p><p>“Hypocrite.”</p><p>“Sure, sure.” Bruce coughed. “I guess I’ll do some more research. Maybe figure out if Kryptonians can feel a massage.”</p>
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